Contracted to the Dark CEO

Chapter 4

Elena barely slept. Every sound in the mansion echoed. The floors creaked, the pipes groaned, and leaves whispered against the windows. The estate, for all its size, felt like it was breathing, watching. As the morning sun streamed through the silk curtains, she sat up. The cryptic note was in her hand. Her body was tired, but her mind wouldn’t stop racing.

She needed answers. But more than anything, she needed to play this game carefully. When she came down the stairs in her sleek navy dress, the mansion buzzed with quiet activity. Staff moved like ghosts, efficient, silent, never meeting her eyes. The scent of coffee and baked pastries wafted from the east wing. The dining room was cavernous. A crystal chandelier hung like a crown above the long mahogany table. Stefan sat at the head of the table. He wore a crisp dark shirt and slacks. With a fresh cup of espresso in hand, he scrolled through his tablet.

He looked up as she entered. “You’re late,” he said, no warmth in his tone. She gave a tight smile. “Didn’t realize this was a board meeting. “His brow arched slightly, but he didn’t respond. Instead, he gestured to the seat beside him, asking Elena to sit and eat.

A server immediately appeared with a tray of croissants, fruit, smoked salmon, and eggs. It was a gourmet spread, but Elena barely touched it. Her eyes kept drifting to the windows. Beyond them, past the manicured hedges, she could see the edge of the forest. The place where the cottage and the figure had vanished. “I didn’t know there was another building on the estate,” she said casually, buttering a croissant. “I noticed it last night. A cottage by the trees?” Stefan didn’t look up. “The gardener’s cottage but it’s vacant. Elena froze for a heartbeat, then blinked slowly. “I must’ve imagined it, then. “His eyes flicked to her. Calm. Calculating.

“Maybe you were dreaming,” he said smoothly. “This place can be disorienting at first.” She nodded and took a bite she couldn’t taste. Later that morning, Elena slipped away from the main house. She used the excuse of getting fresh air, telling Margaret she wanted to “explore the grounds.” No one followed her, at least not openly. But she could feel eyes on her back as she made her way across the expansive lawn, the sun warm but her nerves ice-cold.

She headed toward the tree line. The closer she got, the more the estate behind her seemed to vanish. The air shifted, quieter here, more still and then there it was the cottage. The small, stone-walled building had ivy climbing one side. Mossy steps led up to a wooden door. The windows, however, were dark and empty. No sign of life, she approached cautiously, hand trembling as she reached for the door handle. It turned unlocked and she pushed the door open and froze.

The inside was bare, dusty and cold. A single wooden chair sat in the center of the room. A rug, a desk covered in old papers and a map of the Wolfe estate, circles drawn in red ink. Lines linked points she couldn’t grasp. On the desk, one thing caught her eye: A Polaroid of her at the window from last night.

Her stomach dropped suddenly, and a voice behind her said: “You shouldn’t be here.” Elena whirled around, heart lurching into her throat. A man stood in the doorway. Older. Mid-fifties. Faded grey cap. Eyes sharp as knives. “Who are you?” she demanded. He didn’t answer. Just stepped inside slowly and closed the door behind him. “You need to leave,” he said firmly. “Now.” “Why? Who are you? Did you leave that note?” He shook his head. “No. But I know who did. And you’re not safe here.”

Elena stared at him. “What do you mean I’m not safe? Stefan, she mentioned, “Stefan Wolfe isn’t the man you think he is,” the stranger said coldly. “And this house and this marriage, it’s not what it looks like.” She stepped back, bumping into the desk. “Are you threatening me?” “No,” he said. “I’m trying to save you.” He reached into his coat and pulled out something small, a flash drive, and set it on the table.

“Don’t trust anyone. Not even the ones who pretend to be helping you. Especially not them.” Before she could ask more, he opened the door and vanished into the trees. Back at the mansion, Elena locked the flash drive in her vanity drawer before anyone could see it. She stared at herself in the mirror, barely recognizing the woman there. Was this the beginning of the unravelling? Or had it already started long before she walked down the aisle?

She didn’t know but one thing was certain: The estate was no longer just her prison. It was a battlefield. She was ready to be the most dangerous player. Unlike before, when she felt weak and unsure, she now understood there was a game. A twisted, silent game with invisible pieces, secret rules, and dangerous consequences. And she had just been handed her first weapon: the flash drive.

She retrieved it from her drawer, holding the small device between her fingers like it was a trigger. It was old. No label. No markings. Just cold plastic and whatever secrets were locked inside. Her fingers trembled as she connected it to the silver laptop. Stefan had given it to her on their “wedding night.” It booted up quietly. No password. The screen blinked once. Then it showed a folder named "Project: Gemini." She clicked it. Inside were six video files. No thumbnails, no dates, just time stamps. Random ones. One was from the previous week. Another from two months ago. She double-clicked the most recent file.

The video opened with grainy black-and-white footage. A camera is placed somewhere high. She squinted as her stomach lurched. It was footage of her inside the mansion pacing her bedroom at night, crying into her pillow, undressed! The angles were invasive and specific.

She slammed the laptop shut, her breath catching in her throat. Her heart pounded like a drum. They were watching her every single moment, but who? Stefan or Someone else? Or were they both being played?

A soft knock rattled her door “Elena?” Her spine went rigid as she heard Stefan’s voice behind the door. She hurried to hide the flash drive under a loose panel in the drawer. Her fingers brushed against the cold wood and a thin layer of dust. She pushed the drawer shut just and rushed to open the door. Stefan stepped in, uninvited. “You locked the door,” he said smoothly. “Everything alright?” Elena forced a calm she didn’t feel. “Just tired.” His eyes scanned the room like a predator sniffing blood. “Funny. I was just about to say the same thing.” He stepped closer.

“By the way,” he said, voice dipped in sugar and menace, “you wandered a bit far today.” She stiffened. “I needed fresh air.” “Hmm,” he said, brushing imaginary lint from his sleeve. “It’s easy to get lost on this estate. Some of the staff mentioned you were seen near the old gardener’s cottage. Strange place to go for a walk.” She held his gaze. “Strange place to have a cottage.” For a split second, his smile faltered. Then nothing. Just that perfect, practiced calm.

“I’m having it demolished,” he said casually. “Rotting foundation. Wouldn’t want anyone to get hurt.” Elena’s pulse throbbed in her ears. “Right,” she said quietly. “Safety first. “As Stefan turned to leave, he paused at the doorway. “You should get some sleep, Elena. You look unsettled. His tone was warm, but his eyes were cold and calculating. They hinted at something different.

“Goodnight. “The door shut behind him, and she stood frozen. She moved quickly, grabbed the laptop, and plugged the drive back in. This time, she opened a different file. Another video began, showing static and a distorted feed. She leaned forward, pulse quickening. The footage showed a man entering her suite. Tall, Broad shoulders, Confident gait. The frame flickered, but the features were unmistakable.

Stefan, the timestamp showed it was from two nights ago. She watched, heart racing, as he neared her bed. Her sleeping form was barely visible under the sheets. He stood still and watched for almost five minutes. Then, he reached under the bed and pulled something out. A small box. He opened it, glanced at the contents, and slipped something into his pocket. He whispered something, but the mic didn’t pick it up. As he turned to leave, the camera captured his final action. He looked straight up into the hidden camera. Elena slammed the laptop shut her blood turned to ice. He knew more than just how she looked or about the cottage. He knew about the surveillance, and he wanted her to realize that he knew.

The message was clear. It wasn’t just a warning; it was a threat. Stefan Wolfe was somewhere in the house, two steps ahead, enjoying her fear. Elena backed away from the desk, her breath shaking. Her phone buzzed and she nearly jumped out of her skin.

An unknown number, no contact name, just a message. “Check the drawer in the guest study. Before he erases it all.” Another message followed instantly: “Don’t trust Margaret.” She dropped the phone and fled into her dressing room.